


i won't let our future fade away

by ginger__snapped



Category: The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals - Team StarKid
Genre: Comfort, Domestic Fluff, F/M, insight onto life, little bit of angst and sadness, really guys idk i just wrote this in an hour, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:55:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23384863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ginger__snapped/pseuds/ginger__snapped
Summary: Emma's had a really shitty day. And really, all she wants is a hug.ora soft scene of two dorks in love
Relationships: Paul Matthews/Emma Perkins
Comments: 12
Kudos: 59





	i won't let our future fade away

**Author's Note:**

> title inspiration from golden days by P!ATD  
> //Time can never break your heart  
> But It'll take the pain away  
> Right now our future's certain  
> I won't let it fade away//

Emma had been staring at the door to her apartment for a solid fifteen minutes. This wasn’t the first time she’d been locked out of her apartment, but this time just felt like  _ someone  _ was absolutely fucking with her. 

“If there’s anyone up there,” she finally said, “I’d like to just say fuck you, okay? You hear me?  _ Fuck  _ you.”

Now, most of Emma’s days were shitty, between the coffee shop and school and just life, but she’d been yelled at by fifteen customers in the last hour before closing, and finals were coming up,  _ and  _ she had to deal with shitty people at school, so getting locked out of her apartment was just perfect. 

It was far too late for her to ask her landlord — and anyway, he was a massive prick and Emma didn’t feel much like talking to him anyway. 

She took a seat on the steps leading up to her door, sighing. She’d have to call Paul, and she really hoped he was still awake, because if not, she’d have to call someone like  _ Nora _ , and God forbid she’d turn to her for help. 

The phone rang once, twice, three times, and Emma was about to give up hope when there was slight static before Paul’s worried voice came across the phone. 

“Emma? Are you okay?”

“Honestly? Not really.” She sighed again. “I’m locked out of my apartment,” she said, tilting her head back and looking up at the dark sky. “And I don’t want to talk to my landlord, because he’s an asshole, and life is just super fucking shitty, and it’s cold as shit out here, and —” She stopped, closing her eyes. “I just need a hug,” she said. 

“Oh, Emma. I’ll be there in ten, okay?”

“Okay,” she breathed, shifting so that her back was against the wall, head slumped back. She was exhausted and overwhelmed, and she really did just want to curl up with Paul and forget that the world existed outside of the two of them. 

She closed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose. A serious migraine was coming on, and she hoped Paul still had some Advil, otherwise she’d be puking her guts out in five hours. 

She was dozing off when bright lights washed over her face, and she jerked, eyes flying open. Paul’s stupid Prius was stopped in the parking lot, the one person Emma wanted to see stepping out and bounding up the stairs to meet her. 

His reaction to wrap his arms around her was almost instant, and Emma seriously considered just melting completely into the embrace and never moving, but Paul gently tugged her down the stairs and into his blissfully warm car, and she let her eyes drift closed once more. 

The gentle hum of the car and the background music of 80s rock combined with the fact that Paul was there would’ve been enough to lull Emma to sleep, had it not been for the fact that she was on the verge of a breakdown, her head throbbing painfully behind her eyes. Soon enough, the car stopped, and Emma groaned, letting Paul lead her out of the car and into the house, and she flopped down onto the couch. Emma could hear him going through his immaculately organized cabinets, and she watched through half-lidded eyes as he turned on the fireplace. Paul disappeared upstairs for a moment before coming back with one of his old shirts, returning momentarily to the kitchen before setting a tray down on the coffee table. 

Emma shifted, grabbing the shirt from Paul and almost tearing off her work uniform, slipping on the shirt, soft from years of wear and washing. She managed to get to the bathroom, taking her hair down and angrily rubbing her fingers through it, splashing some water on her face before returning back out to the living room. 

She considered proposing to Paul right then and there, because the sight of him, wearing those stupid glasses on his stupid nose, two mugs of hot tea and a bar of chocolate on the table, and a blanket ready to be used next to him looked like something she wanted for the rest of her life. 

But she just accepted the Advil he pressed into her hand, swallowing them down with the tea. She curled into his side, exhaling and just giving her body a moment to chill. 

“Fuck life,” she finally said. 

“Yeah,” Paul said. 

She reached for the bar of chocolate, pressing a soft kiss to Paul’s lips on her way back to his side. The shapes he idly traced on her arm were comforting, something he did all the time when he was tired, but something Emma was pretty sure he wasn’t aware of. But that was something she kept to herself, because it was a gentle reminder that he was there, and, plus, it was endearing. Paul was endearing. She peeked up at him, breaking off two pieces of chocolate and eating one, pushing the other against Paul’s lips. He startled slightly, looking down at her. Paul took the chocolate from Emma, and she slipped his glasses off his face, smiling softly. 

“You’re cute,” she whispered, and the look in Paul’s eyes was so soft and stupid that it made Emma want to cry. She just turned away instead, breaking off bits of the chocolate and blinking back tears. But soon, the chocolate was gone, and the tea disappeared from the mugs as the pounding receded from her head.

Paul shifted, laying down on the couch, bringing Emma with him. She was half on top of him, his arms wrapped comfortingly around her. Just as Paul was pulling the blanket over them, Emma announced “I’m going to cry.”

And she did, letting the silent tears roll down her face and onto Paul’s chest, all her emotions just washing over her. 

Paul was tracing circles on the sliver of skin that was exposed from the shirt riding up, and the familiar motion made her cry more, so full of love for him, anger at the world, and just general sadness. Paul just continued with his circles, letting Emma get it all out. 

Emma was glad for his silence. She hated people pointing out that she was crying, and she hated talking about it. But Paul never judged, just let her fall apart in his arms and helped her put herself back together.

When her tears and sniffling had ended, Paul brushed her hair out of her eyes and pressed a soft kiss to her temple. 

“Want to talk about it?” 

“Tomorrow,” she mumbled. “Right now I really wanna just either have sex or not move for a thousand years.”

Paul chuckled, pressing another kiss to the top of her head. “I say right now we go to sleep, yeah? We’re both tired, and as nice as sex sounds, just staying here with you sounds nicer.”

Emma hummed into his shoulder, rolling over onto her side. “You’re always right and I hate it.”

Emma felt Paul shifting behind her, one of his arms wrapping back around her, pulling her in so that her back was flush against his chest. Emma closed her eyes, taking in a deep breath. 

Paul’s breath tickled the back of her neck, and his thumb was making light circles on her stomach. Emma grinned stupidly to herself. She never thought this kind of scene of domesticity was one she’d ever want, let alone in Hatchetfield. But Paul had somehow wormed his way into her heart, and she realized with a start that she truly did want this. She wanted the security of knowing someone was in her corner, without a doubt. She wanted the unconditional love and support, and she wanted to reciprocate it back onto Paul, because she loved him so much it hurt sometimes. 

She regretted her rejection of her sister and her love. But maybe she hadn’t been ready to accept that someone could love her like that. Perhaps she was too busy working through her own issues, so angry at the world, that everyone’s intentions seemed misguided to her. And she desperately wished she could go back in time to tell Jane that she loved her, and that she didn’t mean all the shitty things she said to her, but that just wasn’t how the world worked. So Emma just hoped that Jane was proud of her, because Emma could try and do that, at the very least, to try and make up for a lost lifetime. 

But it wasn’t just about appeasing the memory of Jane that lived in her mind. Paul was genuinely nice, and he cared so much, and Emma really did want to spend her life with him. He didn’t pin her down, didn’t make her feel trapped like she had feared any kind of commitment would. They could coexist peacefully, each one a compliment to the other. And Emma, for the first time in her life, had found true happiness. And it wasn’t off chasing the sunset in foreign lands. She had come to the realization that happiness couldn’t come until you faced your demons, and no matter how far or fast you run, they would always be there until you do. 

She pulled the blanket tighter over the two of them, listening to the rhythmic sounds of Paul’s soft breathing, his chest rising and falling against her back. 

“I love you so fucking much, you dork,” she whispered. 

Paul’s breathy laugh hit her neck. “I love you too, Em.”

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading yall :) love you guys  
> also come yell at me on [tumblr!](https://ginger--snapped.tumblr.com/)


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